


watching, waiting, commiserating

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Abandonment, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Unrequited Love, Loneliness, M/M, Post Season 21, Pre-Barisi, Pre-Slash, Support, commiserating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24973096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Sonny and Olivia have more in common than he realizes.
Relationships: Olivia Benson & Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr., Olivia Benson/Elliot Stabler (implied), Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 79





	watching, waiting, commiserating

**Author's Note:**

> I've been doing a rewatch of SVU from s1 onward (after getting all caught up thru s21) and it struck me, how you could draw some major similarities between Olivia and Elliot, and Sonny and Rafael, esp the formers' feelings on the latters' departures. This is set vaguely post-s21, after some kind of hard case that Carisi lost. I'm also taking some liberties w/ the timeline of Stabler leaving, bc I can't remember deets and haven't gotten to s12/s13 in my rewatch yet. Forgive me! 
> 
> This isn't beta'd, so all remaining mistakes are mine! 
> 
> Enjoy!

Olivia finds him nursing a drink at a hole-in-the-wall bar Sonny pulled off Google. He doesn’t know how she found him so easily--whether she got Rollins to unlock Sonny’s computer, or if she gravely misused TARU’s skills to track him down. The thought would make him laugh, if he weren’t so far in his cups. As it is, he barely acknowledges her when she slides into the seat beside him, ordering a glass of red wine. Sonny sips at his scotch and, best he can, ignores Olivia.

She lets him for as long as it takes to get her wine, drain the glass, and get a refill. Then, she sighs and says, “I know today was hard.”

Sonny scoffs and finishes off his scotch. It burns, it also doesn’t taste especially good. It’s nowhere near top shelf, but it’s not swill either; Sonny’s not sure he could tell the difference one way or another. The burn keeps his thoughts from swirling too much, keeps him grounded in his sea of dismay. Today _was_ hard. He’s still so wet behind the ears in the courtroom, and defense attorneys are even more ruthless from his angle now. Sonny closes his eyes at the memory of feeling so lost in court today, like he was drowning.

“Carisi,” Olivia sighs again, “talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?” He’s harsher than he means to be. That’s all he seems to be these days: harsh, mean, aggressive. Being ADA has changed him and even though he knew it was inevitable, he’s not a fan of who he’s becoming. Stressed all the time, walking a wire’s edge between having a breakdown or throwing a punch at a wall, at a perp, at fucking _Barth_ of all people. “What do you want me to say, Olivia?” He asks her through gritted teeth and still doesn’t look at her.

Olivia doesn’t say anything. She sips at her wine, angled in her seat to watch him. It’s nothing like sitting at the bar with Stone, and it’s an even further cry from the nights spent with Barba. The fleeting thought crossing his mind has Sonny’s grip tightening on his glass until his knuckles turn start white. 

The longer Olivia goes without speaking, the harder Sonny grips his glass, and the more his hand aches. Eventually, he relents and lets it go. He pushes it away slightly and the bartender comes by to retrieve it.

“Another?” The man asks, dusty blond hair and scruff along his jawline. 

Sonny opens his mouth to answer but Olivia beats him to it.

“He’ll take a water.”

The bartender gives them an amused grin but he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t wait for Sonny to correct the order, either. He fills a tall glass with ice and then with water and slides it Sonny’s way before moving on to another customer.

“I’m not some kid,” Sonny mumbles even as he wraps both hands around the glass. He lifts it to his lips and the cool water clears his head more than the scotch has. It makes sense, it’s not surprising, but he’s sort of mad about it anyway. He feels coddled enough by his sisters, even Bella. Olivia’s not his boss anymore; he doesn’t need it from her too.

“I know that,” she says. Olivia drains her wine again and waves off another refill. She watches diligently as Sonny drinks his water. It takes him a bit and it happens in silence aside from the drone of the bar around them. 

Sonny keeps his hands cupped around the glass even after it’s empty. “I don’t know what you want from me, Olivia.”

There’s a beat. From the corner of his eye, Sonny can see Olivia’s gaze drop. She’s thinking, carefully choosing her next words. It’s been a while since he got a kind-hearted Olivia Benson lecture. Sonny braces himself, ready to feel scolded like that time his ma caught him sneaking around on lover’s lane with Sally Cornfeld. 

“His name is Elliot Stabler.” 

Sonny blinks. He’s confused. He finally twists to look at Olivia, but she’s not looking at them. She’s looking out at the mostly empty bar. “What?” Sonny asks. 

“My old partner. We worked together for 12 years.” Olivia doesn’t sigh. Her voice doesn’t shake. “We went through a lot together. I was green when I joined SVU, Elliot wasn’t. Didn’t mean he was perfect.” She laughs, shakes her head. She swivels the chair back to the bar and signals the bartender over.

Sonny’s silent as Olivia orders another glass of wine. He waits her out until she’s ready. 

“I can’t decide if you would’ve loved him or hated him,” she says softly, with a smile. “He was Catholic, with this wife and big family that he loved.” Olivia stares at her wine glass without taking a sip. “He loved his family so much, it clouded his judgement. He saw a piece of his family in every victim. Every little boy was Dickie, every teenage girl was Maureen.

“Sometimes it helped. Some victims needed a father figured, someone strong to guide them through the process.” Olivia finally caves and take a hefty sip, draining half the glass. “Other times,” she says, then amends, “ _most_ of the time, it got him into trouble. He treated every pedophile like they had assaulted _his_ kids. Like each case was personal.”

Sonny frowns. “How did he last that long?” He thinks of Amaro and his temper, and of Amanda with her sister. He thinks of all the lines they’ve crossed. He knows it’s not so unrealistic that this Elliot Stabler could make it through twelve years before getting the book thrown at him.

“He was a good detective. He had good instincts, right up until the end. I trusted him with my life.” Olivia pauses. “I still do,” she adds softly. 

“What happened?” Sonny asks, just as quiet, bracing himself for the worst.

“He shot a girl, in the station. She was a victim, really, even if she wasn’t the one who’d been attacked. She was hurt, traumatized, but she had a gun and she wasn’t backing down. Afterward, Cragen told him he’d need to get a psych eval, anger management, submit for review by IAB.”

Sonny can fill in the gaps. “He left.”

Olivia nods. She taps her fingers along her glass, a dull thrum almost unheard over the growing din of the bar. “He left. I came in one day and his desk was all packed up.

“He didn’t even say goodbye,” she says, tilting her head toward Sonny. 

The realization hits Sonny like a freight train. No, actually, it hits him like a bullet to the chest. His heart hurts, aching like a bullet hitting the Kevlar vest and leaving him bruised. Sonny’s breathing catches and if his hands weren’t wrapped around his glass, they’d shake. 

Olivia keeps talking, although she at least looks at him. “I was so mad,” she murmurs. Sonny has to lean in to hear her, especially as the buzzing in his ears grows louder. “I was so mad at him for so long. He left, and even if I could understand why, I hated him for it.

“I hated him for leaving when it felt like I needed him most. I had just…” Olivia trails off.

Sonny says it because his manners scream at him to. “You don’t have to tell me.” 

Olivia’s smile is brittle, rueful. “I was given custody of a vic’s son. Calvin.” She shakes her head and her voice shakes too. “I loved that boy so much. But his mother grew to hate me, and changed the custody order. I lost Calvin, and I lost Elliot not too long after.”

Sonny doesn’t know what to say to that. His head is swimming with this information. He realizes, not for the first time, how little he knows about Olivia. He thinks about how much he’s only ever heard secondhand. He and Olivia are close, and he trusts her with his life, but he feels out of his depth with this new information. 

“I loved Elliot,” Olivia admits in a hushed tone.

Sonny assumed, but hearing it aloud makes his stomach plummet. 

“I loved him,” she repeats, “and even though I knew nothing would ever come of it, because he’d never leave his wife or his family, as long as we worked together, I had him. I _still_ love him, even though he’s been gone nearly a decade. Even though I hated him for a lot of those years.

“Every time something bad happened, something hard, I hated him a little more. I hated that he wasn’t there for me every time it felt like I really needed it, even when that thing happened when he’d already been gone for two years, five years.” 

“Do you guys...do you guys talk?” Sonny cringes. It sounds so juvenile to say aloud.

Olivia doesn’t react other than to shrug. The gesture looks bizarrely vulnerable on her. “He sends a Christmas card every year, I send one when I think of it. I haven’t talked to him in person, or even on the phone...in years. I don’t know what I’d say to him.”

Sonny finally lets go of his glass and rubs his condensation-slick hands on his slacks. The bartender comes by and takes his water and Sonny declines a refill of any kind. Olivia seems to have said her piece but Sonny still isn’t ready to say his. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t even need to. Olivia has always been able to read Sonny like a book, it seems. And even if she hadn’t, he’s sure she’s got insider knowledge, so to speak. 

Rafael and Olivia were friends. They might still be friends; Sonny wouldn’t know. It isn’t as though Barba has kept in touch. 

Barba didn’t say goodbye, either. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Sonny asks eventually. His voice cracks. 

“I was so angry at Elliot, and that’s why I let him leave. That’s why I let him just walk out of my life. Part of me thought it was the best choice, a clean break for us both. Part of me was too mad to even think of reaching out. I kept thinking he’d call, he’d reach out, that we’d meet up for drinks and we’d work it out. I kept thinking, even if we couldn’t be partners anymore, we could at least be friends.”

Sonny fills the silence. “But he never called.”

“And neither did I.” Olivia sips at her wine. She’s staring at the reflective glass behind the bar, catching her own eye between bottles of Jameson and Bombay. “And now, I don’t know what to say,” she says again. 

“Olivia,” Sonny says, weakly. 

“Raf will be back in town in two weeks,” Olivia tells him. It’s a sharp diversion to another topic and Sonny would feel disoriented if he hadn’t seen it coming.

“It’s been...it’s been a while,” he adds lamely. “I haven’t talked to him since he left.” He doesn’t need to say it; she clearly already knows. He says it anyway, an admission of his cowardice. 

“He’s back in town in two weeks,” she repeats. “He and I are planning to meet at Forlini’s for old time’s sake, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to get a sitter.” Olivia finally smiles at him. It’s small and sad, but it’s a smile all the same. 

“Like Lucy would ever say no to you.”

Olivia shakes her head. “I’ve lived with this regret for a long time,” she says. “Too long. And maybe one day, I’ll get a chance like this, a chance to make things right. But I don’t know when that’ll be, if ever. I’m giving you this chance now, because I know you and Barba are just as bad as me and Elliot. Too stubborn, too proud, too scared.

“I refuse to let you make the same mistakes I did, Carisi.” Olivia finishes her wine and turns to face him. “I refuse to let Barba to make those mistakes, too.”

Sonny swallows. “Okay,” he says hoarsely. He feels like a child gently scolded. He feels like his younger naive self. He feels unbearably vulnerable but also like he can’t possibly say no. The idea of being able to see Barba in person again is dizzying. It makes him crazy, how badly he wants that again. 

He doesn’t know what will happen when he sees Barba. Rafael might take one look at him and laugh him out of Forlini’s. Or, and this thought is almost impossible to picture, Barba might be too ashamed to face Sonny. The idea would be funny if Sonny’s heart didn’t ache so badly. 

“I’ll text you the details,” Olivia says as she pulls out her wallet. That, more than anything, draws Sonny from his thoughts.

He scrambles for his own wallet. “Hey, Liv, no. C’mon, let me pay.”

She laughs at him--a real laugh, a bright laugh. “It’s alright, Carisi. Besides, as I loved to remind Rafa, I make more than you.”

Sonny stops, wallet partially pulled from his inner coat pocket. He stuffs it back in. “Alright,” he concedes with a reluctant grin of his own. “But it’s my turn next time.”

“Okay,” Olivia says as she leaves a few bills on the bar. 

She stands and Sonny follows her lead. He’s still a little buzzed from the two scotches he had before she arrived, and he pulls out his phone to order a Lyft. He orders as he follows her out of the bar, and she waits in the chilly night air for him to finish.

“Get home safe, Carisi,” she says, smiling at him. 

Sonny nods. “You too. Tell Noah I say hi.”

“Of course.” She reaches out and grasps his shoulder, a firm and comforting hold, however brief. “Tell Rafa I say hi, when you see him.”

Sonny’s grin turns giddy; he can’t help it. 

“I will,” he says. 

Olivia turns to leave and she gets maybe ten, fifteen feet away before Sonny thinks to holler out, “What do I say to him besides that?” 

Olivia turns, though she never stops walking. It’s good that the sidewalks are clear; there’s no one for her to bump into. “Be honest,” she calls back. “And don’t hold back.”

Sonny swallows the lump in his throat. “Thank you!” he manages to shout, though his voice warbles. 

“You can thank me by inviting me to the wedding,” she replies, before turning and walking off into the night.

Sonny doesn’t watch her walk away. Instead, he pulls his phone from the pocket of his slacks again and opens the Notes app. 

He’s got a lot to say and only two weeks to prepare. 

**Author's Note:**

> Edited to add: This is a oneshot! I'm glad people like it but at this time there's no plans for a second piece/continuation, so please don't ask! Hope y'all enjoy this piece all on its own!


End file.
